


Ask If You Know The Answer

by disarm_d



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 16:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2394632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarm_d/pseuds/disarm_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> It takes them longer than it should to realize that something is up.</i> Telepathy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask If You Know The Answer

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sixth installment of a 10-week/10-trope/10-pairing series with the ever delightful [threeturn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn/pseuds/threeturn). Who forever has my gratitude for some many reasons, just one of which being her beta on this story, <3 
> 
> You can read the other TROPEGATE stories [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/tropegate).

It takes them longer than it should to realize that something is up. 

\--

Louis wakes in the middle of the night and crawls groggily out of his bunk. He walks to the kitchenette to find Niall sitting in the dark, his chin on his hand and his elbow on the table. Louis sits down beside him, their shoulders and thighs touching as they press together on the bench.

Niall sighs, and he doesn’t have to say anything else for Louis to know exactly what’s keeping him up tonight. 

“Maybe you should fly your dad out for the week after next,” Louis says. “What about just for a long weekend?” Niall always feels less homesick after he’s had a visit with his family. 

“I’ll be alright,” Niall says, but Louis knows it was bad if it was enough to keep him up at night. 

It’s taken years for them to learn how to have quiet moments like this. Louis likes to be the center of attention and Niall likes to be in the center of it all. Sometimes it felt like there would never be enough space for the both of them. 

“He could meet us in Vegas,” Louis says. He had been deeply asleep and it’s hard to stay upright, so he lets himself droop down until Niall’s shoulder is the only thing keeping him up. Niall’s t-shirt is soft against his cheek, and he can feel the heat of Niall’s body bleeding through the worn cotton. 

There’s more Louis wants to say, how it’s going to get easier once they get past this leg of the tour, but he’s so sleepy. He curls his fingers around Niall’s elbow. 

Niall murmurs, “Thanks, Lou,” like he already knows what Louis has been thinking. 

\--

They’re in the middle of a neverending interview - like, at least seven minutes so far and still going - and Louis has never been more bored in his entire life. At least not since twenty minutes ago, when they were in the middle of the last neverending interview. 

Liam is rambling on about something, bless him, and Louis tunes in just long enough to hear him talk about, “...sliding into…” Louis thinks, _yeah, do the slide_ , and starts rocking in his chair, arms out at his sides. Niall’s beside him, and he immediately starts doing the same, the both of them dancing in their seats in perfect unison. 

The interviewer gives them a look like _What the hell?_ and Louis cuffs Niall gently on the jaw. He’s a good lad, always picking up on Louis’s cues. The time passes faster after that. 

\--

Louis wants a cup of tea but he’s finally found the perfect position on the sectional at the back of the bus in front of the telly. He’s folded exactly how he likes, and there doesn’t seem to be a risk of any of his limbs falling asleep. He’s achieved the perfect lounge. But he really wants tea. But he’s so comfortable. 

Niall walks in, cuppa in hand, and sets it on the table beside Louis’s elbow. 

“You are a god among men,” Louis says. “One day they’ll build a monument where you stand.”

Niall laughs loudly. He eases onto the couch, wrapping himself around Louis in a way that - against all odds - manages to feel just as comfortable as before. It’s not always like that. Having Niall pressed so close occasionally makes Louis feel like he’s suffocating. It is impossible not to notice Niall when he’s around, and sometimes Louis finds all that noticing exhausting, but it’s been better lately -- most of the time. It takes almost no energy at all for them to fit together.

“Lazy,” Niall murmurs, exactly what Louis had been thinking. “‘m going to nap.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, his eyes already closed. “Same.”

\--

On stage, Niall comes up beside him when they’re singing Kiss You. There’s the beat before the chorus starts. Louis tightens his grip on his mic and kicks his leg up, Niall falling into place beside him as the both of them strut across the stage, legs working in sync. 

Louis feels the floor vibrate with the force of the screaming, basking in the attention. He’s so pleased to be up here, the crowd cheering for them, surrounded by his mates. He loves getting to do this every night, and he’s struck by a gratitude so deep that it takes his breath away. 

Louis rubs his hand across his brow, blinks rapidly. What a sap he’s turned into. He darts across the stage and gives Liam a swift pinch to the nipple to distract himself. 

On the other side of the stage, Harry is cooing at Niall about -- something, Louis can’t tell because Liam is rallying and it takes his full attention to fight him off. Whatever Harry said was funny, Louis knows. Niall’s having a good chuckle about it. 

They find each other again and again onstage. Everytime Louis has an idea for something that will be a good laugh, Niall’s right there, exactly where Louis hoped he would be. 

They’ve got this live show thing down to an _art_. Louis mimes punting Niall in the balls and Niall flails backwards, landing on his back like a starfish. Right according to plan. 

\-- 

After the show in the dressing room, Louis’s hyped. He finds grapes to throw at Liam to amuse himself while Zayn showers and then hopefully they can all smoke up. Except that Zayn is taking forever, that beautiful vain bastard, and Louis wants to do something _now_. 

He lobs the rest of the bunch of Liam, who ducks away easily. They land with a splotch on the floor and Harry says, “ _Hey_ , I was going to eat those.”

“You can still eat them,” Louis says. He decides the floor is lava and hops on up the table, the chair, the back of the couch. There’s not really anywhere to go from the there, so he spends a little time using the back of the couch as a balance beam. He knows that the lads are all watching him, and even without looking he can tell that Niall is hovering nearby. 

When he’s exhausted all tricks he can think of (walking forwards, walking backwards, swinging one foot in front of him, like proper Olympic level stunts right there), Louis decides he wants to jump back to the ground. The threat of lava has cleared. 

He was going to do a cannonball jump off the end, but then Louis thinks, _Niall will catch me_. So he drops backwards. He realizes only after he’s got Niall’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist that it was probably stupid of him to jump, because what if Niall _hadn’t_ caught him? Just as quickly as he thinks that, the worry floats away. Of course Niall would catch him. Niall’s always going to be there when Louis needs him. 

Niall laughs and gives Louis a tight squeeze around the waist while Louis tries to find his feet. 

“Did you practice that?” Liam asks, staring at them with a crease between his eyebrows. 

“No,” Louis says. He wraps his arm around Niall’s shoulder, and then shoves him away when Niall presses his sweaty cheek into Louis’s neck. 

“He didn’t even say anything. How did you know when to catch him?” Harry asks Niall. 

“It’s Lou, innit?” 

“That was freaky as shit,” Zayn says, standing in the door well with one towel wrapped around his waist and one wrapped around his head. 

“Sick as shit,” Louis corrects.

“I thought you were going to fall on your head.”

“I had him,” Niall says. 

Louis nods and scuffs at Niall’s fringe. He knew that Niall had him. He wouldn’t have jumped otherwise. 

“No, it was fucking freaky. What number are you thinking right now?” Zayn asks. 

“Forty-two,” Louis and Niall say at the same time. “Ninety-five, one hundred and ten. Three million dollars.”

“That’s mad!” Liam says. “How did you do that?”

“It’s just…” Louis trails off. Obviously those are the numbers.

“Obviously those are the numbers,” Niall says. 

“Do you know what number I’m thinking?” Harry asks.

“One,” Louis and Niall say at the same time. “One, one, one. Four?”

“It was thirty-seven,” Harry says. 

“Well, _now_ it is,” Louis says.

“No, the whole time.”

“No, you obviously changed it,” Louis says. “Which is cheating, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“I never thought _one_ ,” Harry says. 

Louis clucks his tongue. “Pretty sure you did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did.”

“Lads,” Zayn says. “Is this really the most interesting thing to be talking about right now?”

“Now that you’re out of the shower, we can smoke up,” Louis offers.

“No,” Zayn says. “I mean because you and Niall can read each other’s minds now.”

\--

It’s not until the fifth _Guess What Number He’s Thinking_ , when Louis thinks, _I can’t read Niall’s mind, this is a load of bollocks,_ and Niall thinks back, _I know, mate, what a lark_ , that Louis realizes all is not normal.

_Can you get me that waterbottle?_ Louis thinks. Niall stands. He reaches for one, then another bottle after Louis thinks, _No, that one at the end_.

_Throw it over_ , Louis thinks. _Don’t look, toss it behind your back_.

Niall tosses it high in the air, and Louis catches it easily.

“Lads,” Louis says, opening the cap of the bottle. He waits until everyone’s attention is on him for the grand reveal. “Amazing news. Niall and I can read each other’s minds!”

\--

No one can believe that they didn’t notice when it happened. Niall thinks it must have come on gradually, slow enough that they never noticed a difference. He thinks it’s like how you can boil a frog without it ever noticing if the heat is turned on slowly enough. He’s not sure if the saying is about boiling a frog or about boiling a lobster, and Louis knows this because this image keeps flashing back and forth - green frog eyes looking up from a massive metal bowl and then it switches to the pink shell of a lobster. Niall’s trying to remember which is the right one before he tells the group. Louis knows this, because he can read Niall’s mind. 

“Lobster,” Louis says when the pondering goes on for too long. “Why would you boil a frog?”

And then they’re both trying to remember how frogs legs would be cooked. It seems like they come to a consensus on _fried_ , but Louis thinks it might just be that Niall’s agreeing with him. 

“Umm,” Liam says.

Louis realizes for the first time that the conversation around them has halted.

“It must have happened gradually,” Niall finally says. 

“Like how a lobster won’t notice - oh, never mind,” Louis says. 

“That’s not true,” Zayn says.

“Are you telepathic about telepathy? How would you know?” Louis asks. “It must have been gradual, because it’s not like I woke up one morning and Niall was in my head!” 

“That’s obviously exactly what happened,” Zayn says calmly, “but I meant about the lobsters. There’s a tipping point. Eventually they will feel the pain.”

Harry hisses, like he’s the one on the threshold of being boiled alive. 

“The point is,” Louis starts. He looks to Niall. Niall also has no idea what the point is, but he’s looking forward to hearing what Louis has to say. 

Louis runs his fingers along the neckline of his t-shirt.

“The point is, this changes nothing,” Louis finally finishes. “Everyone can just go about their business now, please. Great, thanks.”

He thinks he sounded convincing. Even Niall mostly believes him.

\--

It doesn’t actually change much, is the thing. Tour continues. Louis stays in Bus 1 with Zayn more often than not. He goes bungee jumping with Liam. Niall keeps trying to teach Harry guitar, even though it always sounds absolutely wretched. Harry won’t push on the frets properly because it hurts his fingers. It’s just like it’s always been, except Niall’s always there, even when he’s not actually _there_.

It’s kind of like how Louis felt when he first met Niall - that he was too full on, an inescapable energy. Louis’s used to him now. He’s seen Niall hungover and puking his guts out, watched Niall blink back tears after his surgery on days when physio was rough. He knows all of Niall, and mostly he’s happy with how much Niall seems to want to be around him. He likes how eager and pushy Niall is until he doesn’t anymore, that moment when it’s too much and Louis’s skin starts to prickle. Louis needs space, sometimes, which is fine because Niall never seems to mind being shoved away, but now Louis _can’t_. 

He knows he’s being an arsehole, but he can’t help it. Niall has been in his head for who-knows-how-long-but-at-least-two-weeks-since-they-figured-it-out, and Louis just wants him _out_. 

Niall’s tired and he’s worried about the crowds that will be waiting for them in front of the hotel and his knee aches dully and he wants nothing more than a quiet pint at a noisy pub but they have to do an interview before the show. 

_Shut up_ , Louis thinks as loudly as he can. He doesn’t want Niall’s discomfort in his own head, when he’s already got his own tiredness, his own homesickness, his own aches from when he rolled his ankle playing football earlier. 

Niall’s thoughts get quieter after that. They’re still there, but it’s clear that he’s trying hard to ignore them and make it so that Louis can ignore them as well. Niall’s good at it, too, knows how to package up his sadness and make it easy to disregard. 

Somehow that makes Louis feel worse than ever.

He thought he wanted to be alone with FIFA, but instead he makes his way to the kitchenette for an ice pack, which he takes to Niall’s bunk.

Niall doesn’t look surprised to see him - of course, since he knew when Louis decided to come - but he’s quiet when he says, “You didn’t have to.”

“Well don’t go on and on about it,” Louis says. He holds the ice pack to Niall’s knee and stands silently, thinking with Niall about all the things they’re going to do when they get off tour: how nice it will be go see home again, all the sleep they’re going to be able to get. The weight of Louis’s hand feels steady on Niall’s knee. Louis knows because Niall is trying very hard not to think about it. He holds completely still so he doesn’t accidentally scare Louis away; he wants so badly for Louis to keep touching him. 

Louis pretends not to notice any of that, even though he’s never been more aware of his own hand. When it’s time to take the ice off, he covers Niall’s knee with his hand instead, a steady pressure and the warmth of his palm. It’s soothing for both of them: a reinforcing feedback loop. By the time the bus rolls into the parking lot, Louis has forgotten how anxious he was to be alone. 

\--

They’re on stage and it’s _good_. They’re fucking rocking it. Louis gets sappy in his thank yous, a little too honest in front of so many thousand people, and feels like he’s too big for his skin. Damn Niall getting in his head and turning him soft. 

Liam says, “Aww,” and makes a pouty face at Louis, half kidding but also like he knows that Louis means it.

“Neil,” Louis says because he doesn’t want anyone looking at him anymore. “I’ve got a challenge for you. How fast can you make a lap of the stage?” He says it out loud, even though Niall already knows what Louis wants, and the crowd is deafening. 

Niall laughs out loud, and his thoughts buzz with something that also feels a little like laughter, and a little like something Louis doesn’t want to think about in front of this many people. Niall takes off.

“Go, Niall,” Louis cheers. “You can do it!”

Niall looks so good, running across the stage, his slim legs and flushed cheeks. Louis feels happy and it just keeps growing until he realizes that it’s Niall’s happiness bouncing right back at him. He can feel Niall’s delight at how pleased Louis is to be watching him, his glee at being watched by Louis as he bounces across the stage, arms flailing. 

It feels like Louis could ask him to do _anything_ , which is as scary as it is exhilarating. Louis likes to be the one to push, but that means he needs someone to push back, and Niall doesn’t. He just goes and goes, running as fast as he can across the stage, sprinting like he could fly right off the stage just from the power of Louis wanting it.

Louis’s breathless, like he’s the one running. He watches Niall jump, and thinks, _Come back now,_ and Niall does. 

\--

Louis wakes in in the night. It’s silent and he doesn’t know why he’s awake at first, but then - oh, Niall’s up. 

Niall seems to realize right away that Louis is awake as well and manages to keep his thoughts blank for about ten seconds by staring up at the ceiling of his bunk before he slips. 

_Oh_. Niall’s _up_.

Louis can tell that Niall’s not jerking off anymore because most of Niall’s thoughts are focused on staying very, very still. The rest are skittering around. Tight and dark and slick and skin and bodies. He knows that Louis is watching and he’s trying not to give anything away, but his cock is leaking on his belly, and there’s a part of him that likes that Louis knows. 

They both stay frozen for a long minute. Niall thinks maybe Louis will go back to sleep, but Louis knows he won’t. He’s hard now, too. Niall’s going to know how hard he is. 

It’s still quiet on the bus but everything inside Niall’s head gets loud. He wants to -- he wants to -- is it okay if --

Louis swallows. Niall doesn’t know what Louis is going to do, and he’s getting frantic with it. He’s trying to wait patiently, but he was already so close, and -- fuck it. Louis slides his hands into his own pants, biting at the inside of his cheek at the first perfect touch of his hand to his cock. 

Niall’s relief feels like a cool breeze in the dark bunk. He starts touching himself again. They’re both silent, and if it wasn’t for the bond thing, neither of them would ever know what was happening. But they do have the bond. It’s the only thing Louis can think about. Niall’s right there inside of Louis’s head, closer than he would be if they were touching. Closer than anyone has ever been before, and just like Louis can feel Niall’s thoughts rushing over him, Niall’s going to be able to do the same. They’re meters apart but it’s already more intimate than sex. 

Louis wants to know what Niall’s hand looks like working over his cock. He wants Niall to open his eyes, and Niall _does_ , but it’s dark in the bunk. Even with his eyes open, Niall can’t make out anything. He can’t show Louis what it looks like. 

He would, though. He’d do whatever Louis wanted, if Louis would just -- fuck, please. Niall’s voice is deafening in Louis’s head. 

Louis feels like he’s floating, the space between them gone soft and pliable. He thinks, _Not yet_ , and Niall slows his hand. Louis knows that he’s going to come when Niall does, but he thinks, _Not yet, not yet_ , and Niall holds off, drawing it out for both of them. 

Niall’s chanting steadily, _Now, now, now_. He’s so close to the edge that his head has gone fuzzy but Louis’s knows his own thoughts are cutting through the fog. 

Louis thinks, _Now_ , and follows Niall all the way down. 

\--

They’re both thinking about it in the morning. Louis doesn’t try to hide it as he watches Niall lick peanut butter off the side of his hand. His own bite of toast has gone dry in his mouth and he has to remind himself to chew. 

He looks at Niall and thinks, _Are you going to suck my cock?_ and watches as Niall flushes.

“I wish I could read someone’s mind,” Harry says, sighing.

“You feeling left out?” Zayn asks in a baby voice, which means that Zayn’s also feeling left out. Louis would feel bad, but it’s for their own good that they don’t know what the silent conversation between him and Niall has been about.

“Maybe you are psychic with someone,” Liam suggests. “You just don’t know who it’s with yet. Maybe I am, too.”

“You hearing voices, mate?” Louis asks. 

“Might be,” Liam says. “Who’s to say.”

“Is it like hearing voices?” Zayn asks. 

Louis looks at Niall. He can see in vivid detail how badly Niall wants to crawl under the table and rub his cheek over the hard line of Louis’s cock. 

“No,” Louis says. “It’s not like voices.”

\--

They don’t get a moment to themselves until after the show once they’re all back at the hotel, and even then it’s hard to shoo the other boys away.

“Violent diarrhea,” Louis says. “Bye, now. Good night.”

“Wait,” Liam protests as Louis gives him a final shove out the door. “You or him?”

“Ta, lads, have a good night,” Louis says, pushes the door all the way closed and secures the deadlock. 

Niall’s at the other end of the room, leaning against the wall. His arms are folded across his chest, bare except for the capped sleeves of his grey t-shirt. 

Louis doesn’t understand why he’s still so far away, so he closes the distance between them. He sets his hands on Niall’s hips and rocks Niall further back against the wall. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to Niall’s, inhaling deeply before dropping his chin to press his mouth to Niall’s. Niall kisses back, opens his mouth to Louis’s tongue, and arches his hips into Louis’s hands. It’s exactly like Louis knew it would be and still somehow better.

He can tell how shocked Niall is, his excitement, the _finally_ , all undercut with disbelief. 

“You know I wanted you,” Louis whispers. It’s still easier to say words out loud sometimes. It’s not always clear even inside his own head until he actually gives it a voice. “I’ve thought about this.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Niall says. His flush is creeping past the stretched neckline of his t-shirt. “I thought it was just, like. An echo.”

“I thought about it before. Before everything. I just thought it would be -- “ Louis doesn’t know how to articulate it. He thinks about the force of Niall’s enthusiasm, how it’s shared across so many people so much of the time, how untethered he made Louis feel. 

“You don’t still feel like that,” Niall says. They’re standing so close. If he lifted his hand, he would be able to feel the pounding of Niall’s heart. 

Louis shakes his head. Niall still makes him feel on edge, but it’s raw, longing feeling. Louis can feel it now, and he soothes himself by nipping at Niall’s lower lip. 

They trip over each other walking back to the bed, laughing into each other’s mouths. Niall pushes Louis into the mattress and climbs up after him, settling between Louis’s legs and pushing his jeans down enough to get his cock out. 

Louis watches as Niall sucks him off, twists his fingers into Niall’s blond hair. He knows that Niall knows how much Louis likes it, how good his wet mouth feels, even though he’s mostly only able to suck on the head without choking himself. Niall’s embarrassed when he gags, but he does it again when Louis thinks, _Come on, darling_. Louis can tell when it’s getting to be too much and he eases Niall off, tugging him up by the hair for a deep kiss, sucking on Niall’s tongue.

Niall’s desperate for it, rocking into Louis’s hip but being careful not to rub against Louis’s bare cock with the rough fabric of his jeans. 

It takes Louis a minute to sort out whose thoughts are whose, and in the end he’s not entirely sure how to separate them.

Niall says, “Fuck me,” which is what Louis was thinking as well, but there’s time for that later. 

They undress. Louis grabs the lube and lies down beside Niall again. They’re both naked and the feel of bare skin is enough to raise goosebumps on Louis’s back. He shivers and holds Niall closer, tangling their legs together. Niall’s bony, skin soft except for the rough patches. He’s warm and his cock is leaking where it’s pressed into Louis’s belly. They’re lying flat in the bed but Louis can’t stop squirming around, trying to hold Niall tighter, to get him a little closer. 

“Just fuck me then,” Niall whispers, his voice breathless with a hint of laughter. 

Louis doesn’t want to pull back, but he lets Niall turn in his arms until they’re spooned together, Louis’s hand tucked between them, slick fingers sliding up Niall’s arse. Niall likes it even though the bad angle is making it burn more than usual. He wants Louis’s cock, but Louis drags it out until Niall’s writhing.

Finally Louis slicks up his cock. His hand’s so sweaty that he doesn’t know if he’s got enough on, but he slides in easily when he finally pushes into Niall. It’s difficult to move like this, especially given how tightly he’s holding Niall to him, one arm trapped under Niall’s neck, the other looped around to pull Niall back with a palm to his torso. Louis buries his face in the back of Niall’s neck and rocks in a little deeper. 

Louis drags it out for as long as he can, but eventually he needs to _move_. He pushes at Niall’s shoulder, rolling him onto his stomach, and pulls Niall’s hips up in the air. The angle is perfect like this, Niall’s back arched, his face pressed into the pillow, and Louis goes _hard_ , fucking Niall until they’re both crying out from it.

It’s like that moment when he was watching Niall on stage, delighted, the feeling amplified by Niall’s joy at Louis’s happiness, back and forth until it felt like it was going to burst into fireworks. Niall’s open and easy, trusting like Louis could do _anything_ and it would be okay. It should be scary but there’s this soft steadiness underneath everything, like no matter how much Niall lets go, he’s still fully grounded. Like it’s safe for Louis to trust him too. 

\--

They’re on the bus, sprawled together on the sectional. Niall’s knee is aching, so Louis’s has Niall’s legs up in his lap. Niall doesn’t like to be massaged, but having Louis’s palm resting gently on his kneecap helps diffuse the ache. 

Zayn comes in, makes a low cooing noise, and then climbs gingerly on the couch so he’s perched on the arm, right beside Louis. 

“What number is he thinking?” Zayn asks.

“He’s not thinking any numbers,” Louis says. 

“Tell him three,” Niall murmurs. 

“You said that out loud,” Zayn points out. “It doesn’t count.”

“You don’t count,” Niall and Louis say at the same time, and then immediately follow it with, “just kidding, I love you.”

“Are you still telepathic or not?” Zayn asks, squinting at them. “I can’t tell anymore.”

“Well, you know,” Louis says. He slides his palm down Niall’s shin to squeeze at his ankle. 

\--

It goes away just as gradually as it came on, and by the time it’s gone completely, neither of them can say when it finally ended. Louis is grateful that it’s over except in the moments when he misses it. He thinks of telling Niall sometime, but just from looking at him, he can tell Niall already knows.

**Author's Note:**

> Weekly tropegate fic announcements will be posted to our tumblrs: [onedisarmed](http://onedisarmed.tumblr.com/) and [valencing](http://valencing.tumblr.com/)


End file.
